My Wife’s Middle-Eastern Intern is the Man of Our House

My wife invited her office's Middle-Eastern intern to live with us. Within weeks, he was sleeping in my bed with her, and eventually, threw me out of my own house.

My wife, Whitney, worked as executives together at a major firm. One of our IT interns – a Persian kid named Hussein – was looking for a place to stay for the summer, and she suggested he stay with us. The bonus of living with people you worked with meant he got free rides to work every day, to boot.

My wife and our intern had become friends despite the job ranking between them. At the end of work every day, Whitney would tell me physical features she liked about Hussein, like his jet-black hair, his arched eyebrows, his cocky smirk, his stocky body, his thick hands. This didn’t make me jealous – my wife got to where she is in life by paying attention to details. Still, it did strike me as odd that most of her thoughts revolved around our Arabic subordinate.

One day I walked into Whitney’s office during lunch and saw Hussein sitting on her couch. His back was to me, and when the door shut, he quickly turned his head around and smiled – there was that cocky smirk and arched eyebrow my wife talked so much about. I took my eyes off Hussein for a minute to lower my bags, and when I looked up, my wife slowly rose in front of him, wiping the side of her mouth with the back of her mouth. She was surprised to see me home so early.

Hussein stood up, adjusted his belt, and pulled up his pants zipper before walking toward me and shaking my hand, his manly grip squeezing my thin one. He thanked me for letting him stay with us, but his shit-eating grin made me feel inferior to inferior to the Middle-Eastern kid. He was looking down at me, and though he was only so many inches taller than me, I felt small in his presence. Hussein’s eyes were judging me as if he was assessing a situation he was about to enter, and his expression told me he knew things would turn out in his favor. He told me he would be moving in by the end of the week. I began explaining what the rental stipulations would be and what he would be expected to do in the house to carry his weight, but he didn’t take me seriously.

“Sure, buddy,” was the intern’s only reply. “Yeah, we’ll see how things go.”

I walked into the lunchroom the next day and sat across from Hussein and Whitney. I noticed that there was plenty of room around the table, yet they were sitting right beside each other. I wanted to tell my wife to give the kid some breathing room, but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, at one point, he put his arm around her shoulder while showing her something on his phone.

When Hussein came back from lunch that day, he grabbed all the work on his desk and dumped it in my inbox, telling me he was leaving early to move his stuff into my house. I told him I had more important things to do than his duties but immediately regretted my decision. Before Hussein could even say anything, I apologized for my outburst and told him I’d take care of him. The snickering around me was palpable. I felt like that was the moment I lost the respect of my co-workers and employees.

When I came home that day, my wife and Hussein came out of the room he was renting looking like they had just finished a CrossFit session. I had assumed it was because she was giving him a hand moving, but his stuff was still in boxes. Whitney’s hair seemed a little tangled as if it was yanked and pulled. She was walking funny, too, and her lips had a gloss I had never seen before. Hussein looked me with that smirk of his and told me to unpack his boxes for him. Slapping my back a few times, he gently said to me that he expected me to be finished by the time he returned. Hussein gave my wife a wink before leaving the house, and for the first time ever, I heard my wife swoon.

When I came to work the next day, people seemed to be snickering at me. Hussein was the talk of the office. He had accomplished something, but no one would tell me what it was. People were treating him with respect, and treating me the opposite way, ironic given our rankings. By lunch, once again, Hussein dumped his work pile into my inbox, lightly smacked my cheeks a few times, and told me to get to work.

“You got it, Hussein,” I said to him as he walked away without acknowledging my response. The snickering surrounding me was louder this time.

I was in bed early on one night when I heard a commotion coming from the living room. I walked out, turned on the lights and saw my wife sitting on Hussein’s lap on our couch. The sofa had its back to me, so I could only see the back of Hussein’s head. Hussein didn’t look my way as I tried to make chit-chat, he just told me to have a good night, dismissing me. My wife stayed silent as I took the cue to leave, assuming Hussein wanted to talk to her privately. I wished them a good night and went back to bed.

About 20 minutes later I had to pee. As I made my way to the bathroom, I looked over to the living room and the lights were off again. I turned them on, and suddenly, my girl’s head popped up from behind the couch looking surprised to see me, a guilty look on her face. Her blouse was open, and her lips were wet. Hussein turned his head in my direction and looked at me like he was going to kick some ass. I apologized, turned the lights out and finished my business in the bathroom before going back to bed. I was sure my girl would tell me in the morning what she and Hussein were doing in the dark.

I awoke to the sound of furniture moving about a half hour later. I could hear my sofa being pushed on the hardwood floors, almost in thrusts, eventually hitting the wall with a thud. The sofa sounded like was being rammed against the wall, the thuds happened about six times more. I could hear whimpers, almost pleading noises coming from my girl. I couldn’t hear Hussein’s voice at all, just the sound of wet, tight plunging noises getting louder, faster, and harder in sync with the chair’s movement and the wall thuds. I opened the door and peeked into the living room purposely not turning on the light, as I didn’t want to get another angry look from Hussein. I could only see his back, hunched over the sofa, the front of his body was resting on something. I could hear two voices panting, out of breath. I was too exhausted to be nosy, so I went back to bed. I was awoken yet again, this time by my girl crawling into bed with me. Whitney passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow with a smile on her face.

The next night I came home and heard bed springs bouncing behind Hussein’s door. Hearing Whitney’s voice saying Hussein’s behind it…well, shouting his name repeatedly, actually, I knocked on the door, and Whitney told me she would be out in a minute. I went to the kitchen to have a snack and watch some TV, and my girl came out wearing one of Hussein’s t-shirts. After grabbing food, my wife told me she would be handing out with Hussein for a while, and not to wake up. I told her to have fun as I had plenty of binge-watching to do my DVR anyway. I purposely wore my Beats by Dre headphones and cranked up the volume so I wouldn’t hear the commotion coming from our intern’s room.

After passing out on the couch, I woke up around 3 am to take a leak. Just as I was about to enter the bathroom, Hussein walked out of it, bumping right into me. He didn’t flinch, while my body fell backward a couple of steps. Chuckling, Hussein grabbed my shirt and wiped his hands with it before heading back to his room.

“Your girl’s sleeping in my room tonight,” Hussein stated before shutting his bedroom door behind him. I shrugged my shoulders, and when I turned on the lights, I saw that Hussein pissed right on the toilet seat. I shook my head as I wiped up the mess he left behind.

My Wife Fell Asleep in Her Intern’s Arms

I awoke in the morning to commotion in the bathroom. The shower was on, and there was an aggressive conversation happening as it ran. That thrusting and plunging noise was there again, amplified by the water. I walked by Hussein’s room, and it looked like a tornado had hit it. My wife’s panties were hanging from one of the bedposts, there were headboard dents in the wall, and one of the bed’s legs seemed wobbly. Hussein and Whitney walked out of the bathroom together with towels around their bodies. He smirked at me while Whitney kissed me on the cheek.

“Good morning, honey,” She said with a smile. She was beaming with happiness. I had assumed Hussein was shaving and brushing his teeth while Whitney was in the shower. Before I had a chance to ponder it any further, Hussein shouted my name. I looked over at him and saw him sling-shot my wife’s panties at my head, making Whitney laugh. I found it interesting that Whitney was comfortable around our intern enough to undress in his room. It wasn’t a big deal to me, though. I mean, it’s not as if she was naked with him.

Whitney began sleeping in Hussein’s room on a nightly basis. I would come home late and see her sleep in his arms in his bed after walking to the bathroom. There were times where they were even cuddled up on the couch in the living room.

Hussein hadn’t mastered the art of boundaries, though. He would eat my food without replacing it, but I didn’t make a big deal out of it because he was an intern, he barely had a pot to piss in. My wife and I were the ones making a good living, so rather than be confrontational with our tenant, I simply replenished what he bought and purchased more of it so there would be enough for the both of us. I also noticed that he would leave the bathroom untidy, and made no attempt to use our washer or dryer, so I took the initiative and not only cleaned up after him, but did his laundry as well.

Things started to change after I became so subservient to Hussein, though. It was one thing to lose the respect of my work peers, but the more I did for Hussein both at work and at home, the less she thought of me as a husband. With each passing day, Hussein was becoming the man of the house simply by having things done for him by me. He didn’t need to tell me what he liked because I was assertive. I had the fridge and cupboards stocked up, I had the house spic and span, and I made him look like a superstar at work. But in spite of my hard work, my wife wasn’t looking at me the same way anymore. I was Hussein that as getting all her attention. I knew thing were bad when she told me she preferred Hussein’s bed over ours. To me, that was a way of telling me that she wasn’t comfortable sleeping with me anymore. I hadn’t realized that the more I did for Hussein, the more I was losing my girl’s respect.

“Your girl’s sleeping in my room tonight,” My intern said to me.

One night I came home and, as usual, Hussein and Whitney were fast asleep together, but rather than be in his bed or the couch, she was cuddled up in his arms in our bed! Not wanting to wake them up, I took the couch. When I awoke the next morning, Hussein pulled me aside to tell me how much he liked my bed better than his. Not sure where he was going with this, I suggested that we could switch mattresses, but he corrected me by saying it would be more practical to switch rooms. I wasn’t sure my wife would be willing to give up the master bedroom, but then realized that Alyssa was used to sharing a bed with him anyway, why not have her sleep in her own room. I volunteered to take his bedroom, even though it felt like he manipulated me into offering me what he wanted. He smirked when he slapped my cheeks a few times and told me to pack my stuff out of his new room on my lunch hour. I asked him if he wanted me to move his stuff into the master bedroom and he looked at me like I had just asked a ridiculous question.

“Just be done by the time we get home,” Hussein said with his back to me, thumbing his phone. “I want to surprise Whitney with this.”

I found a lot of my wife’s belongings in Hussein’s room as I made the room transition. A lot of it was her clothing, and it seemed to linger around the mattress. My wife sent me a text later that day thanking me for the surprise, and that she loved it. She told me how this was my idea, according to Hussein, and that I wanted her to spend more time with him. This was not something Hussein and I talked about, but I just went with it.

“I’m really glad you feel that way, honey,” Whitney said to me. I felt like she was preparing me for something with that last sentence.

As much as I liked Hussein’s room and sleeping in what used to be his bed, the noise he and my girl were making in my marital bed made it hard to sleep. I heard giggling, laughter, groans, grunts, springs bouncing, headboards slamming, and it was like they didn’t even care I was trying to sleep. Eventually, they would fall asleep from all the fun they were having each night. The noise level from their room had a roller coaster effect, going from loud to louder to quiet, then back up again before dead silence. When I brought it up to Hussein, he told me not to be such a sissy. I apologized for being difficult, not wanting to get on the bad side of my intern.

Over time, my wife and I became less husband-and-wife, and more of two roommates under the same roof. Hussein was getting all Whitney’s attention with each passing day. I eventually brought this up to her, suggesting that, perhaps Hussein might have overstayed his welcome, and that maybe it was time to end the tenancy. As much as I liked taking care of him, it had come at the expense my marriage, and I missed spending time with my girl. Whitney agreed that things had drastically changed since he moved in, and that the three of us would have a long overdue discussion later that night.

When I got home that night, Hussein and Whitney were waiting for me in the living room. Our young Arabic tenant told me to grab him a beer and then sit down on the couch across from them. I felt like I was a kid sent to the principal’s office. I wanted to sit beside my wife, but Hussein had his arm around her as if he was staking his claim. It was weird seeing him so authoritative and acting like the man of the house, especially since he was my intern. On the other hand, seeing him oozing confidence and having the hottest girl on the planet by his side made him look like the ultimate alpha male. Anyone could take one look at the kid and know that he was going places.

The stories on this website are exactly what the title suggests - tales and write-ups of a married woman or taken girlfriend, cheating on her husband or boyfriend behind his back. Most of the stories involve the adultery taking place right under the cuckold's nose. Whether you interpret that as the cuckold being too stupid to notice, or choosing not to notice, is irrelevant.

The girls doing the cheating in these stories are not evil. In fact, they love their significant others very much, with no desire to leave them. It's just that the guy they are cheating with are worth it, each in their own unique way.

Whether you want to call them bulls or studs, the alpha males stealing away these women are the husband or boyfriend's buddy, best friend, boss or his bully.

On Oblivious Cuckold, she will always be cheating on her man with someone he knows.